


Another Chance

by pookiestheone



Series: No Place For Me / Another Chance /The Waning Day [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Kissing, Love, M/M, Romance, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:05:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pookiestheone/pseuds/pookiestheone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/717355">No Place For Me</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
Before reading this, you should read [No Place For Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/717355/chapters/1328777)  
 _Sometimes all it takes is another chance to get it right._  


* * *

Thomas was dying for cigarette. He had been so busy all day he had only managed to have two. With Carson in the hospital after a heart attack, he had temporarily become butler. Although he had overheard a conversation that Carson might not be coming back which could mean he would have the position permanently. Over the last few years Carson and he had called a truce of sorts and Carson, recognising he had the ability, had shown him most of the inner workings of Downton and what it took to keep it running. Thomas was sure he could do the job and just as sure that Carson would recommend him.

He still had Jimmy and Alfred, but at times they were overwhelmed. The addition of the two children was more work than anyone had suspected. Sybil was seven and George would be six in a few weeks. While the nanny looked after them, they still managed to cause more than their share of havoc. They were spoiled. Thomas supposed that was understandable, but still it could make for some surprising days. It wasn't that he didn't like children, it was just he didn't know how to deal with them. He had never been around any, had no nieces or nephews and he knew he would never have his own. He had gradually become more comfortable with them, but he still wasn't sure. Of course, they gravitated to him as if sensing he would give in rather than have to disappoint them.

"Thomas?"

"Yes, Miss Sybil."

"I can't find George."

George Crawley was always hiding and upsetting her. You would think she would have learned by now.

"Now, Miss Sybil, you know he's around here. Did you look in the library?"

"I've looked everywhere?"

In a house the size of Downton, he doubted it.

"Can you help me find him?"

"I'm very busy."

"Please, please."

"Why don't you get Nanny to help."

"I don't want her. I want you."

Anything to keep her quiet so he could get on with his day. Fortunately he had seen the little bugger sneak into the breakfast room about fifteen minutes ago. He was going to find out what he was up to but got sidetracked by Jimmy.

"Very well, let's look in the breakfast room."

"I already did."

"Everywhere?"

"Yes."

"Inside the sideboard?"

"Oh. No."

Thomas had Alfred empty the sideboard earlier in the week and knowing George it wouldn't have taken him long to find that out. The children seemed to wander the house at will and at odd hours. It was their house, of course, but their nanny really should take better control. He opened the door into the breakfast room and Sybil dashed over to the sideboard, flinging open the first door.

"He's not here."

"Try the next door."

As she opened it George sprung out.

"Boo!"

Sybil screamed and jumped back, hitting her head on one of the chairs. Thomas ran to her as she sat crying on the floor.

"Are you all right. Let me see."

He checked the back of her head, but there was no cut. He turned to glare at George, who immediately ran out of the room, leaving him with the sobbing Sybil. He bent and picked her up.

"It will be all right. Let's go find Nanny."

She buried her head in his shoulder and continued sobbing.

"Maybe we can get you something from Mrs. Patmore, too."

Sybil looked at him, wiping her tears.

"What?"

"I don't know, but she always has something special hidden away, doesn't she?"

And maybe we can get me a good stiff drink and a cigarette. He carried her out of the breakfast room and saw George coming down the hall with Miss Nelson, the nanny, in tow.

"Mr. Barrow, what happened."

"They were playing and Sybil hit her head. It's not bleeding and I don't think it was that hard, but I'm sure you'll be able to tell better than I can if there's anything else wrong."

As she took Sybil from Thomas and started away, Sybil wailed.

"What about Mrs. Patmore?"

That caught George's attention, of course.

"Mrs. Patmore?"

The nanny looked at him. Why hadn't he kept his mouth shut?

"I said that Mrs. Patmore might have a treat for her."

George piped up again.

"Me too. Me too."

The nanny looked at Thomas as if to say, "You started it, you finish it."

"Yes, yes. I'll have Alfred check and bring you both something. If Miss Nelson doesn't mind."

"No, I think that would be fine."

She walked away again, George running in front of her. Sybil looked back over her shoulder and smiled.

"Thank you, Thomas."

Now maybe he could get back to work. He found Alfred and told him what had happened, sending him in search of Mrs. Patmore. He would never hear the end of it if he forgot that. He came across Jimmy in the dining room.

"Is everything under control now?"

"Yes."

"Good. I'm going to go outside for a cigarette. You know where to find me if anything happens in the next ten minutes."

"I'll be able to handle it."

"Yes, I know."

"Don't worry. If Carson doesn't come back, the job is yours. You know that."

"Do I?"

"Of course. I can hardly wait to call you Barrow when you're not around to hear me."

"I'll bet you can't."

He left Jimmy and went downstairs.

"Mrs. Patmore, did Alfred get something for the children?"

"Yes, Mr. Barrow."

"Thank you."

It sounded odd to have her call him "Mr. Barrow" but it went with the position. Moving up like that might cause problems since everyone was used to him as Thomas. Still it wasn't something unusual for an under-butler to become butler so there really shouldn't be a problem with anyone. If there were, he wouldn't allow it to go on. The house had to run smoothly. As he reached for the door handle to the yard he shook his head. Shit, he sounded like Carson. He opened the door and almost walked into scaffolding. He forgot it was there.

As estate manager Tom Branson was responsible for the upkeep of the house itself, which could take quite a bit of work. This year he was having large areas of the stone cleaned and all the windows painted. Small jobs could be handled by his own workers, but not this large an undertaking, so he had hired an outside company. They had been there almost three weeks. Thomas waved one of the workers over.

"How much longer will you be here?"

"Don't know. You'll need to check with the boss."

"Is he here?"

"That's him coming down the scaffolding on the other side of the yard."

All Thomas could see was his back. He walked over and waited at the bottom, talking to him before he reached the ground.

"How much longer are you going to be in this area? It's inconvenient and I was sure you would be finished by now."

"It will take as much time as I need to do a good job."

He turned to face him.

"I'm sure you wouldn't want me to do anything else. I . . ."

He stopped mid-sentence and stepped forward.

"Thomas?"

Thomas struggled to put a name to the face, then it all flooded back.

"Charlie? Is that really you?"

Charlie grabbed him in a bear hug.

"Damn right. After all these years. What are you doing here?"

"Charlie, let me go. Not here."

He pushed him away, dusting himself off, and immediately regretted it when he saw his face.

"I'm sorry. You took me by surprise. Of course I'm glad to see you."

He reached out his hand. Charlie paused before shaking it. So that was how it was going to be. Two could play that game.

"Look, I've got to get back to work. These men are good, but someone still has to keep an eye on them."

"You?"

"Don't sound so surprised, Thomas. I'm the foreman. Been doing this for almost twenty years now. Not with this company but all over the place. I've been with them two weeks."

"That didn't come out right."

"Yes, I noticed."

"Can I start again? It's just that I never expected to see you again or to see how well you've gotten on."

"That's fair I suppose. Finding you here was a bit of a shock for me too."

He looked him up and down.

"Fancy outfit. What are you?"

"Butler. Well, acting butler."

"It's a long way from clock maker."

"And you're a long way from coal man."

He paused.

"I still have the cross."

"I never expected anything else."

"Look, I've got to get back. Can we meet?"

"I'm staying in a room over the pub until I find somewhere to live. We could meet there."

Thomas wasn't sure how he would be able to get away.

"It will be late. After nine, closer to ten."

"After twenty years, I don't think a few hours will matter."


	2. Chapter 2

  
When there were no guests or if it wasn't a special occasion, the family had decided to eat dinner at six-thirty. While it was early, this meant that the children could be with them at the table rather than eating by themselves. Thomas stood at the head of the room after Jimmy and Alfred had served the food. Tom Branson always asked his daughter about her day and they were already talking.

"And what else happened after you finished your lessons?"

"George and I played hide and seek. It was fun until I got hurt."

"Hurt? What happened."

From across the table, George added his two cents.

"It wasn't my fault."

"Yes it was, George. You scared me. I hit my head on a chair, but Thomas helped make it better."

Tom Branson turned to look at Thomas, catching his quick smile.

"And how did he do that?"

"He picked me up and he got me something from Mrs. Patmore."

"I helped too, Sybil. I got Miss Nelson."

"Yes, George. After you ran away."

Thomas smiled to himself again. Sybil could more than hold her own.

Lady Mary joined in.

"So, Barrow, you were the hero."

"I did what I could."

George tugged at his mother's arm.

"Mama, why do you call him Barrow now? His name is Thomas."

"I'll explain later, dear. But you should call him Barrow as well."

George looked confused and muttered to himself as he went back to eating.

"He's Thomas. I don't call Uncle Tom, 'Branson'. I won't call him Barrow."

"Later, dear."

Tom Branson stayed behind after the others left.

"Well, it looks like you've made a couple of conquests."

"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to."

"That wasn't an accusation. Never be sorry for having children like you."

Thomas nodded.

"By the way, do you mind them calling you Thomas? I know that Sybil won't change and it sounds like George doesn't intend to either."

"No, I don't mind at all, but others obviously don't want it."

"Yes, well others will learn that what they want probably doesn't matter. Good night."

"Before you go. About the company that's working on the house?"

"They do seem to be taking longer than I expected, but their work is very good."

"No, it's not that. I know the foreman. I haven't seen him in many years though."

"Is that a problem?"

"Not at all. But he is looking for somewhere to live. Are there any places that are rented to people who don't work for the estate and are any available?"

"Yes. There are several. There are a few in the village, a small cottage on the outskirts, and some elsewhere. The one on the outskirts is vacant."

"Do you have anyone in mind for it?"

"No. It just became available a few days ago."

"I'm not sure what he's looking for, but if I give him your name will you speak with him?"

"Of course. I'm here all day tomorrow if he wants to check with me."

"I'm going to see him tonight. I'll let him know."

After he left, Thomas went downstairs to his desk. He hoped Charlie didn't think he was interfering; maybe he wanted to live in Thirsk or one of the larger towns. But he was staying in Downton and said he was looking, so he assumed he meant in the village itself. He wasn't sure why he wanted a permanent place to live anyway. If he was foreman, he had to be where the work was and that wouldn't always be in Downton. By the time Thomas had finished the work on his desk it was close to nine. He went looking for Jimmy.

"Do you think you can manage the rest of the night without me. I'm going into the village. I asked His Lordship earlier, but wanted to make sure everything was settled before leaving."

"I'm sure Alfred and I can manage. Everyone who is still up is in the library. Why are you going into the village so late?"

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

It was only a short walk to the village so Thomas arrived before nine-thirty. Charlie was sitting outside the pub.

"This isn't as late as you said."

"Yes. Dinner is earlier now and I was able to leave the footmen to look after things for the rest of the night. Why are you out here"

"It's a warm summer night. I can't think of anywhere nicer. Sit here."

He moved over on the bench making room for him. As he sat down, he felt Charlie's hand on top of his. Thomas almost pulled away, but realised that there was no one around to see them. He still cautioned him.

"Charlie, we have to be careful. You know that."

"Give me some credit Thomas. I'm not going to push you to the ground and fuck you right here."

"If I remember correctly it wasn't exactly fucking and it wasn't you who did it."

He laughed and Thomas saw him blushing in the light from the pub window.

"True."

Charlie turned to look at him full on.

"You know you haven't changed all that much. Older of course and maybe a bit heavier."

"Hey!"

"But I recognised you almost immediately."

"Well, I can't say the same about you. You were a scrawny bugger, but not now. I think it was your hair that finally made the connection."

"Yeah, well eating well and regularly makes a big difference. "

"I thought about you often. Wondering what had happened to you. For a while I guess I hated you for leaving, but eventually I understood there was nothing else you could have done."

"You can't imagine how hard it was for me to do that, to know I was hurting you. I went back several years later, just after the start of the war. You're father was there, but when I told him I was a friend and asked about you he said you had gone, but nothing else."

"That sounds right."

He moved his hand away from Charlie's as a couple approached. One of the housemaids and a boy he didn't know.

"Good evening, Mr. Barrow. Lovely night."

"Good evening, Alice. Yes, it is."

As they walked on, Charlie teased him.

"So should I be calling you Mr. Barrow?"

This time Thomas took Charlie's hand.

"I hope not. Now where was I? Oh, right. My father."

He paused and Charlie could see the sadness in his face.

"After you left, things went downhill quickly. I got careless. One too many indiscretions. I guess I didn't care after losing you. He caught me with someone. I thought he would forgive me, but I was mistaken; I misjudged his anger. He said that always suspected I was 'funny', but that thinking and knowing were two different things. That he couldn't have me working with him, living in his house if I was 'like that'.

"I told him I would live somewhere else if he wanted, but I didn't know how to do anything other than clock making and he said I should have thought of that before polluting myself. Polluting myself? He told me he had a contact at one of the job registries for servants who would find me something as a favour to him. I would have to be happy with that and consider myself fortunate I wasn't in jail

"That's how I ended up here. I was almost too old to be a footman so I guess I was lucky. For years I hated it and the people around me, did what I could to turn them against one another. I wanted them to suffer the way I had. I felt I deserved better and if they had something I wanted I would figure out a way to take it if I could."

"And now?"

"Now I look back and wonder what all that anger got me. I realised I had nothing, not even friends, and the only one being hurt was me."

He leaned back on the bench.

"You know, I never went back. Never wrote. I can't tell you if he's living or dead."

Charlie reached over and squeezed his knee.

"I'm sorry it turned out like that. If I had known . . ."

"Charlie, you couldn't have done anything. In the end, it doesn't matter, does it. By some miracle, we found each other again so it's not all bad by any means. So, that's my story, what about you? How did Charlie Alders, jobless ex-coal man, end up at Downton as foreman of . . . How many?"

"Twenty in this crew."

"So?"

"It was all luck. Something I never expected to have unless it was bad. After I left your house I had no idea where to go, but I knew I had to find somewhere to live at least. I think I had less than a pound to my name, except I found another ten in the pocket of the jacket you gave me. You wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

"No."

"Liar. That bought me some breathing space. I found a room at a boarding house for a few shillings a night. Not much, but it was clean and the landlady was nice. She rented out a few rooms to men, some who were working, some who weren't. She didn't care as long as we paid.

"I looked for something over the next few days, but had no luck. I was starting to get desperate. One night at dinner there were five of us, including a new person. The conversation turned to me and what I did. I told them I had been a coal man, but wanted to find something else if I could. The new man at the table was obviously interested in me - if you know what I mean - and after dinner we talked for a while."

"And talking lead to . . ."

"Yes, but that's not the point. He told me that there was an opening on the painting crew he was foreman of and that he could get me hired on."

"If only you . . ."

"Shut up, Thomas. But yes, I knew that was expected without being told. I needed the job, he wasn't bad looking."

"So, out of my bed and into someone else's"

Charlie's face flushed and he moved away from him.

"Do you think that's what I wanted? I already thought I was worthless so what difference did it make if a stranger fucked me so I could get work."

Charlie, I'm sorry. That was uncalled for."

"Yes it was. Maybe you haven't changed as much as you think you have."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Look, Charlie, I can still be an arsehole at times and you're right to call me on it. I wish I hadn't said that."

Charlie shrugged.

"I guess it still bothers me that I got my job that way. But, you see, I kept the job and got other ones, better ones, because I was good at what I did, not because I fucked someone. I learned quickly and put what I learned into my work. I watched the other people on the crew as well - painters, joiners, glaziers, stone masons. I asked about what they were doing and how they did it. When an opportunity came up to try something new, I jumped at it. Eventually I knew everything I needed to be a foreman. It wasn't easy and it took until a few years after the war, but I did it."

"That's quite an accomplishment. "

He took Charlie's arm and pulled him closer.

"You know I never thought you were worthless."


	3. Chapter 3

  
Charlie looked around before leaning over to kiss him.

"You don't know how often I've thought of being able to do that again. Do you want to come inside? I told the landlord that someone would be stopping by and he said it wasn't a problem as long as there was no one here when he locked up at eleven."

"I'd like that. I want to talk to you about something else too."

"Talking wasn't the only thing I was thinking about."

"Oh, I definitely know that. Let's see what happens."

Once inside they climbed the stairs to Charlie's room. It wasn't fancy, but there was a good-sized bed in one corner and a couple of armchairs near the open window. They settled into those.

"Did you want a drink? I have a bottle of Scotch."

"Maybe one. It's been a long day."

Thomas lit a cigarette while Charlie poured them each a drink.

"When did you start smoking?"

"Too long ago. Do you want one?"

"No, thanks. So what did you want to talk about?"

"You're still looking for somewhere to live?"

"Yes. I can't seem to find the time to do much about it though. I haven't seen anything in the paper or in any shop windows."

"There's a cottage near here that Downton owns and rents out. According to Tom Branson it's available and if you're interested he said to talk to him tomorrow. I'm not sure what you're looking for or how much it will cost though. Besides, why do you want to rent here? Surely you'll be travelling all over to different jobs."

Charlie handed him is drink and sat down opposite him.

"Branson is the estate manager, right?"

Thomas nodded.

"Seems like a decent fellow in the few dealings I've had with him. I want to get something local because apparently we'll be in the area several months at least. We don't just do painting and stone work. I understand the owner has spoken to Branson about a number of jobs - the dowager house, whatever that is, among others. There would be an ongoing contract. Plus apparently we have several houses and businesses in Thirsk and Renton, up to Northallerton and south to York, on our list of customers. He intends to expand into this area permanently, open an office and yard I didn't think there would be all that much work here, but I guess I was wrong. He also wants me to spend some time making new contacts and keeping customers happy."

"So you're going to be more than a foreman. After just two weeks?"

"I've done it before. That's the major reason why he hired me and mainly why I took the job I'm training an assistant foreman to take over when I'm not there. I'll be wearing two hats for the time being, but he is making it worth my while. I'll even have a car. Anyway, about the place, I don't need anything too large. Two bedrooms would be good. I need one for my son."

Thomas almost spit out his drink.

"Christ, Charlie. A son?"

"Yes, William Thomas. He's just turned nine."

Thomas began to think he might need more than one drink.

"So you're married? You have a son? How . . . ? Wait, are they here?"

Charlie laughed.

"Do you see them? No, William's staying with Clara's cousin. And I'm not married. Clara died when William was two. How did this happen? Well, that's a good question."

"Damn right it is."

"Honestly, I can't explain it. I met Clara right after the war. I'd never been interested in women. You know what it's like. But Clara was somehow different. She was beautiful and kind and . . . Hell, Thomas, I don't know. Maybe it was everything that happened during the war. Maybe I thought I could change and she would be the one to make it happen. It wasn't love, but I never told her that. Next thing we knew she was pregnant. I wasn't going to abandon her, so we got married. We were happy, or at least she was happy. Clara understood me. Not about how I felt about men - because that never went away and she never knew - but how I wanted to succeed, make a better life. She helped too. Improved my arithmetic, taught me how to read and write properly. When William was born I knew I loved him even if I didn't love her."

Charlie sat forward in his chair.

"Look, if she had lived, I don't know what would have happened. When she died, I felt I had lost more than just her. But – and this is a terrible thing to say – after a while I also felt relief. I guess I realised it wouldn't have been forever and that her death spared her the pain of knowing that. I would have hated to end up resenting her or staying just because of William, making her life miserable because of it all. She deserved far better than that."

He leaned back and drained his glass.

"Or maybe I'm just trying to justify what a shit I was. Not a very nice picture, is it."

"No. But I'm not sure what to think. On the one hand it seemed a heartless thing to do, to lead her on like that. On the other, I wasn't there and, Lord knows, I shouldn't be judging anyone. I suppose the point is that, and you said this yourself, she was happy. It's no use having the 'what ifs' rule your life. She wasn't aware of all the things you feel guilty about or everything that you think might have happened. For her, I expect life was what she wanted – a husband, a child and someone to love. Trust me, it took me a long time to realise that happiness and love are more important than almost anything else."

"And what about you?"

"Do I have those? No, not really. I'm . . . I don't know. Content? As far as love. Well, there was someone, but he's not interested."

"He's still around?"

"That's the hard part. It's been a few years and I've resigned myself to the fact that nothing will ever happen."

"And there's no one else?"

"Not for years. I might as well be a hermit when it comes to that."

"So, there's no one in my way?"

"Slow down. I'm not ready to fall in love with you and have you move on in a few months. I don't think I could take that."

"Odd, I didn't say anything about love. But you admit you could fall in love with me."

"Charlie, we've been bandying around the word 'love' a lot. I just got confused."

Charlie got up to pour them another drink. Right, Thomas, confused. He handed Thomas his drink and sat beside him on the arm of the chair, putting his arm around his shoulders, leaning his cheek against his head.

"Don't you see. When this works out I won't be moving on. Yes, the job will take me all over the place, but not away for any length of time. I'll work with the customers, find new ones and supervise the crews if needed. The whole idea behind this is that William and I will have some place to call home again. I'll be able to see him every day, not just every few weeks the way it has been for the last little while. And he'll be able to meet you."

"That sounds great."

"But?"

Thomas got up and walked over to the window, staring out for a moment before turning and sitting on the sill.

"I don't see a place in your life for me. You don't need anyone else, particularly someone who would just complicate things."

"You would complete it."

Thomas took a deep breath, forcing back the tears When he spoke, Charlie could hear the ache in his voice.

"You don't understand my life. I work from eight in the morning until nearly ten at night, usually seven days a week. I'm pretty well at someone's beck and call all the time. That doesn't leave me much time for myself let alone anyone else. I'm almost forty and I'll probably drop dead handing someone a drink when I'm eighty. You don't know what it took to get here tonight and even then look how late it was."

He got up and sat down in the other chair. He didn't want to be near Charlie.

"The best we could ever have is a few hours a week like this."

"You knew all this and yet you still came tonight. That has to mean something."

Thomas lashed out.

"Yes, Charlie, it means I'm a fool who hasn't learned anything. Hope against hope, that's all tonight was. Maybe just wanting you to hold me after all this time."

He couldn't hold back the tears any longer.

Charlie got up and lifted him out of the chair, wrapping his arms around him and kissing him.

"Don't do that. Don't."

He held him until he stopped, but even then he didn't let go.

"Listen. I'm not stupid. I know we couldn't be together the way either of us want. Not now anyway."

He sat him in the chair and knelt.

"Do you remember that night?"

Thomas's halting sigh rattled through his chest.

"What do you think."

"I've never felt about anyone else the way I felt about you then. The way I feel about you now. Tonight I said you would complete my life. I know that sounds corny, but I've wanted that ever since that night, no matter how ridiculous or farfetched it might have been. If all I can get is a few hours a week, then I'll gladly take them."

He leaned forward and kissed him again before sitting on the floor in front of him, holding his hands.

"Because, Thomas Barrow, I love you. I realised long ago that I loved you from that night twenty years ago and never thought I would be able to tell you. What were the odds that we would ever meet again? This is another chance for us. We should never regret we didn't take it."

Thomas stood up, pulled him to his feet and onto the bed. He was right. Complications be damned. A few hours. Who better than Charlie to spend those with for the rest of his life.

~~ End ~~  
This story has an epilogue [The Waning Day](http://archiveofourown.org/works/724526)


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